


74. wild gestures

by piggy09



Series: The Sestre Daily Drabble Project [194]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 14:10:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9275504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piggy09/pseuds/piggy09
Summary: Anonymous asked: Prompt - monkey tree Sarah and Helena





	

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place a year or two before [monkey tree](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7088509) actually starts. I don't remember when Helena came to Canada. Please forgive me, it's been a long day.

Sarah’s sister has been pretty much locked in her room for a _week_ , now, but S won’t stop making Sarah try to talk to her. There is nothing about this that isn’t shitty: the terrible hot dregs of summer, school looming over the horizon, this stranger with her face she has to _accept_ , S’ nagging. Sarah just wants to get out of this terrible house, pour a bottle of water over her face and pick meaningless fights with Tony about shitty movie sequels. But here she is instead, standing outside of the door to the room that _should_ be the guest bedroom. It’s silent. _Get out_ , she thinks as she pounds on the door.

“Yes,” says her own voice, hurried and frightened.

“It’s me.” She pauses, rolls her eyes. “Sarah.”

Scuffling from inside, and the door opens. Sarah’s met with another shock: her face, her own face, her face surrounded by the shittiest perm she’s ever seen and undereye bags that are a weird and hilarious shade of pink. Sarah’s _sister_. Sarah’s _twin sister_.

“Hello, Sarah,” Sarah’s sister mumbles.

(Her name is Helena. Sarah knows this, but there’s a part of her terrified that she’s misremembering it. She still doesn’t really say her name. What if it isn’t actually Helena?)

(What if it _is_ actually Helena, and saying her name makes her – real?)

“Hey,” Sarah says. “You’re not comin’ out of your room, S is pissed.” She pauses, huffs, rolls her eyes again. “Siobhan. Mrs. S. She wants you to – socialize or sommat, I dunno.”

“What is _socialize_ ,” Helena says, wide-eyed.

“It’s when you talk to people.”

“I am talking to you.”

Sarah laughs a little despite herself. They could just leave the weirdo in her room. If she’s here she isn’t with Sarah at school, or even a part of Sarah’s life at all. S can slide her food under the door and Sarah can keep on not having a sister. Great for all parties involved.

“Not good enough, apparently.”

Helena fidgets from foot to foot. This entire conversation she has been clinging to the edge of the door like it’s the only thing keeping her from falling over a cliff. Her knuckles, right now, are white on the wood. _Poor kid_ , Sarah thinks despite herself. Then she buries that thought. The last thing she needs is pity inherited from old foster mothers – _poor damaged little girl_. Instead she clings to anger like a life raft. _Fuck_ this girl for climbing into Sarah’s life like Sarah had left a space for her.

“Okay,” Helena whispers, and for a dizzy second Sarah thinks she’s apologizing for entering Sarah’s life in the first place. But she isn’t. She’s accepting that she isn’t good enough, which is a perfectly decent second answer.

“Great,” Sarah says.

“Do I socialize down the stairs.”

“Sure,” Sarah says, and steps back as Helena makes her very slow and tentative way down the stairs. She’s so _small_. She’s Sarah-sized – maybe bigger, that smelly parka is enormous – but she holds herself like she’s made of feathers. She trails the lightest fingers on the banister as she goes down the stairs. She settles directly in the middle of the couch, and wilts further. She won’t stop looking at Sarah. Her eyes are like the eyes of those porcelain puppy statues, the ones Sarah was always too terrifed to touch. The ones that looked like shattering.

“Great job,” Sarah mutters. “You can just – stay there ‘til S gets home, she’ll be thrilled.”

“Okay,” Helena says again. Jesus Christ. Sarah sways from foot to foot, anxious and guilty for reasons she doesn’t want to name. (She knows exactly what they are.) (She just doesn’t want to name them.)

“I’m sorry,” she blurts. “This is just – weird. You get it, yeah?”

“Weird,” Helena says, repeating the word delicately. “Yes. Much…weird.”

“Yeah, whole bunch,” Sarah says. She drums her fingers on her leg. Debates the lie. Says it. “I’m glad you’re here. All the way from Russia.”

“Ukraine.”

Sarah winces at herself. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Helena says. She tilts her head to the side. “I am glad. Also. That I got to meet you.” She smiles a little bit; it’s the first time Sarah has really seen her smile. It’s _horrifically_ awkward. She looks like she needs lessons in it. “Sarah. My _sestra_.”

“That’s me,” Sarah says. Helena is still smiling at her. Sarah should smile back, probably! She doesn’t. Instead she swings on the edge of the wall, back and forth over the staircase. “I’ll…be in my room if you need anythin’, yeah? Just knock.”

“Okay,” Helena says. “I will be here. Socializing.” Sarah blinks; that last word was dripping with sarcasm, she _heard_ it. But when she looks Helena’s face is open and guileless. Probably just the accent. Hell of an accent.

“Great,” she says. “You’re doing a great job.” Then, with no small amount of shame, she flees.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please kudos + comment if you enjoyed! :)


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